


Impression

by RaccoonMama



Series: Pernstuck [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Dragonriders of Pern AU, Dragons, Homestuck AU, Impression, Pernstuck, parentcestors
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-05-20
Updated: 2012-05-20
Packaged: 2017-11-05 16:57:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/408797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaccoonMama/pseuds/RaccoonMama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While practicing songs for a hatching ceremony, apprentice Harper John ends up finding so much more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Impression

**Author's Note:**

> For more information on trolls and how they exist on Pern, go here: http://pernstuck.tumblr.com/post/22224309461/trolls-and-humans-on-pern

**-Late Morning, Harper Hall-**

The sounds of music were always prevalent in the Hall. It was a comfort to the Mastersinger, a cotholder's son from sandy Igen, to be amidst so many talented minds and voices on any given sevenday... and of course, with a Fort Weyr hatching so close at hand, the entirety of the craft was alive with activity as those who would be called to sing at the festivities that followed practiced and prepared.

He couldn't resist a smile, then, at the two boys before him, slated as part of one of the performing groups set to perform for the weyrleaders and the new weyrlings. He had been, at first, dismayed as anyone else in the Hall when John's voice had broken. Masterharper's son he was, but that did not rescue him from the inevitable shifts into manhood. Besides that, it was so very rare to see a boy soprano have any voice at all once his turn had passed, and so he endured a pleasant surprise when the boy's voice broke into a light, sweet lyric tenor.

Gamzee had not been much of a surprise at all. The tall boy, all long bones and sharp angles, was tall and sparse, but like his sire, his voice had matured into a rumbling baritone. When the two sang together, it created such a pleasant counterbalance that he couldn't help but want to hum along.

He had just stopped the boys during their parts in the Duty Song, moving to correct a rushed section, when a commotion in the great courtyard distracted all three of them. John cocked his head a bit, expression impish as ever as his blue eyes caught his master's odd expression. “Master Rene...?”

The man lifted a hand for silence, walking over to the window to see what the fuss was about. What greeted him was a fair of three dragons – brown, blue, and green – crouched and gazing around serenely with slowly whirling blue-green eyes. It was far too early for hatching, he considered, and the dragons were far too calm for it to be any kind of emergency. He did catch sight of the Masterharper, a vest of blue over his favored white tunic, striding out to greet the riders and offer them hospitality. From the look of him, he had not expected their visit any more than anyone else.

Deciding from the scene before him that they would learn the reasons in due time, he turned back to his two students, tapping a music stand lightly with a long, carved wood cane. Both of them had been craning their necks, trying in vain to catch a glimpse of the magnificent beasts gracing the Hall. “You'll see dragons aplenty at the hatching, you scamps,” he scolded, his own smooth baritone rolling over the words. “Now... breathe in.”

They had only gotten through their very first section when an interruption came again, this time in the form of a knock at the door. Though annoyed, the Mastersinger carefully schooled his expression and walked to answer, looking down at one of the riders from the courtyard. He was a strong enough looking lad, though in height he scarcely reached the Singer's shoulder. “Bluerider C'lais of Fort Weyr, Mastersinger,” he introduced himself, though he did not return the towering Master's easy smile. “We ride in search.”

“A pleasure to host any dragonrider in our humble crafthall, wingsecond.” Rene's observation of the knots on the man's shoulder proved true, and he watched the man's shoulders relax somewhat. “My duty to the weyrleaders. Please, enter. Search always has priority.”

John and Gamzee both straightened, particularly when the word “search” was uttered. A search meant there were not enough worthy young men and women at the weyr to provide the new eggs sufficient choice in candidates. A search meant these riders came with a purpose, and it was very likely at least one youngster from Harper or Healer Hall would be flown to Fort to stand for Justith's latest clutch.

They even stood a chance of impressing.

After all, who hadn't heard of the recent, unexpected impression of Vriska, daughter of weyrwoman Aranea of Ista, to gold Marqueth, against all odds. No one thought the brazen girl would pair a hatchling at all, least of all the precious gold, but Marqueth proved them wrong. And if she could do it...

Their backs straightened further as C'lais walked in front of them, and though he appeared to be casting them both an appraising glance, his gaze was unfocused as he conferred with his dragon outside. When his eyes refocused, he fixed both boys with a warm smile at last. “And might I have both of your names?”

It was John who piped up first. “John, sir! Son of Masterharper James!”

“Oh-ho!” Now the bluerider grinned. “And are you to make a harper, lad?”

John's cheeks immediately colored. “Well, sir, I do like to sing... and I suppose I am expected to make a harper, since my father is THE Harper. Though I would reckon it would be much better if I could be a harper and a dragonman both!”

Rene had to stifle a laugh at poor C'lais's expense as the man stood straight, observing the spectacled boy with the wide front teeth, his own eyes wide. That was John to the very core of him.

After a moment or so more of contemplation, the bluerider turned to Gamzee. Though the same number of turns as John in age, the Masterdrummer's boy was two heads taller, for all the thinner he was. “You, boy,” C'lais was saying. “You I remember. I grew up in the same beasthold as your sire, Messir. He came to Harper Hall about the same time I was searched. Gamzee, correct?” When the gawky boy smiled in confirmation, so did the dragonman. “Yes, you have his height... his height and his horns, but not quite his bulk.”

“Father was my size at the same turn, sir,” Gamzee drawled, serene and smiling, “or so he tells me.”

C'lais couldn't stop the grin at that. “Is that so? And how many turns do you have, boy?”

Gamzee looked to the Singer now, and when the man gave him an encouraging nod, he spoke again. “Fourteen turns, sir. Both John and myself.”

“A good age for candidates.” His smile came so much easier now, and as his eyes unfocused, Rene finally relaxed. Search was intense, and if he had the sense of little dragons, he could see now why C'lais was so rigid. It was his big blue that sensed potential. “Mastersinger, I hate to intrude further on your time, but Avenith insists I bring John for him to see up close.”

John, for all Rene knew he must be thrilled at the prospect, had the good graces to look as stricken as fortunate. Gamzee smiled down at his friend, nudging his ribs once. That spurred him to movement as the Singer spoke again. “Of course, wingsecond. As I said before, search always takes priority.”

The next few minutes saw the harper boy led out of the room and down the stone steps toward the open area where the dragons had landed. For John, the short walk from the relative safety of Rene's office classroom to the courtyard filled with the majestic beasts seemed to take a lifetime. Had he misspoken, perhaps? Maybe the dragon had been offended that John dared to hope to be a harper and to impress a dragon!

He saw the startled look his father gave him from where he stood speaking to the brown's rider, and immediately John shied from his gaze. It was suddenly very hard to swallow.

The big blue dragon was lounging a bit when his rider returned, and he turned his head to give John a cursory glance with one enormous jeweled eye, reflecting the appearance of a shaggy haired boy of just barely fourteen turns back to him. He closed the first set of lids in a lazy blink, and when he grumbled, C'lais laughed. “He requests you scratch his eyeridge for him. He does love that, the pampered beast.”

His tone was affectionate despite the teasing, John decided, and he lifted a trembling hand to rub the offered ridge. The blue crooned in delighted pleasure at the rubbing and John couldn't resist a smile. “He's very soft.”

“That he is... John, Avenith tells me you have what it takes for a good candidate. I ride with my companions in search for this beast here can sense the potential in others. Not a single young man or woman, found on search by Avenith and me, has ever been left standing on the hatching sands.” He paused for effect in much the same way the Singer would, letting his words sink in. “However... the choice is ultimately yours.”

John regarded the wedge shaped head tilted toward him and the glittering, multi-faceted eye still visible beneath that first lid. The beast was beautiful indeed... and Fort Weyr was close enough that should he fail to impress, he could always come back to Harper Hall. “May I tell my father...?”

When the bluerider nodded, John spoke his apologies to the rumbling dragon and took off across the courtyard like a shot. He passed the greenrider, a small troll with a bright round face, engaged in earnest conversation with a shy girl he recognized from the Healer Hall.

By the time he reached the Masterharper, he had so bottled up his words that they poured out in a gush the instant he opened his mouth to speak. “Father! The bluerider C'lais says his dragon has searched me and if it's all right, I want to stand for impression!”

James didn't respond for a moment, but finally he grinned, clapping his hands onto his son's shoulders. “My son, a dragonman?” And immediately, his grin broadened. “My son! A dragonman! John, you are no longer a child to ask my permission in this, though I would have to be a wherry-brained fool to deny you this honor! No, my boy... boy? No, no; young man! You are a young man, and this is your decision to make.”

For a moment, John gaped at him. Then, slowly, he nodded. “I will stand for the hatching, Father. I will make you proud!”

“I am already so very proud of you, son,” the Harper countered gently. “That will not change, not now or ever.” The hug he offered his son, rare as it was for he did his best to avoid showing favoritism to his offspring, was tight. “Go to the dorms and pack light. And I? I shall see you at the hatching!”

* * *

It was very hard to believe that in the short span of that whole morning, John of Harper Hall had gone from practicing for the hatching ceremony to being chosen to stand among the select few as a choice for the very eggs they sang about. He was seated between Avenith's neck ridges now, firmly in front of the bluerider, and secured with a riding strap, his things packed up neatly behind them. He glanced over at his father, beaming with pride, and the Mastersinger standing near him, arms folded over his chest and smiling. Many of his friends were watching as well, eyes wide as the dragons – on C'lais's signal – jumped skyward, their mighty wings beating to gain altitude.

For John, the moment was breathtaking. He could feel the muscles in the dragon's neck working underneath him, and he did his best not to cling too hard to the thick ridge in front of him. He earned what sounded like a draconic chuckle for that, and in the next breath, C'lais was leaning forward to yell something to him, getting a firm grip on the boy.

“I am about to take us between. You've likely heard it in your songs, but it's much more frightening your first time than anything can portray. You will not be able to feel me behind you, or Avenith beneath you, but we will be here. Just hold your breath and count to three. Are you ready, John?”

Part of him wanted to say no, but he knew he couldn't – and shouldn't – lie to a dragonman. So he nodded shakily and C'lais leaned back, still holding tightly to him as he raised his hand into the air, giving the signal to his wingmates to go between.

C'lais had not lied about between being far more frightening than any of the teaching songs described. He knew he had tightened his grip on the blue dragon's neck ridge, though he couldn't feel the leathery hide beneath his fingers. In fact, all sensation ceased, and the only thing he really felt aware of was his heart, nearly in his throat. Doing his best not to try to scream just to break the awful silence, he closed his eyes and counted to three.

Then, suddenly, they were in the open air again, Fort Weyr's ancient bowl far below them. The watchdragon trumpeted a greeting to the three dragons come from the crafthalls, to which all three beasts gave their brassy reply. John jumped at Avenith's bugling, but his grin was one of genuine delight at hearing that sound so near him.

“Good lad!” He could barely hear C'lais over the wind. “Not a peep or a tear! I knew Avenith made a solid choice!”

Anything else he might've said was lost in their descent, and any fear John had dissipated. Avenith was taking it easy to avoid frightening his extra passenger, and his neat landing was paired with a graceful little hop.

C'lais was already undoing the safety tethers, and John just caught the affectionate mumble of “show-off.”

Their landing was accompanied by a sudden swarm of youngsters to help unload. Most were far too small to stand for hatching, which was probably why they rode in search. All the same, he was grateful for the help when C'lais unbuckled the riding straps and helped him slide to the ground, offering his bags.

“Harper born, arencha?” John spun to face the origin of the new voice once he was back on solid ground with his bags in hand, finding himself facing a skinny, leggy troll girl with a big toothy grin, though it was her brilliant, fully red eyes that really caught his attention. “Gut and that weird oil they use to condition wood for gitars. I can smell it on you.”

John gaped at her. “You're straight on. I'm John, from Harper Hall. You've got a good nose on you.”

She grinned wider, which John really had not thought possible. “Lucky for it, too. I'm blind as between. Born that way; don't you get all fretful – you're fidgeting, I can hear your bags moving. I get by just fine, though, and I'll get on even better once I impress! My name's Terezi, by the way. My mum's Lanxia, rider of Justith, and weyrwoman here.”

It was almost overwhelming how fast she spoke, but John eased himself in as easily as he could. “Will a dragon... know? That you're blind, I mean?”

“John! What kind of question is that?” She gave him a look of feigned insult, though the corners of her mouth twitched as she tried to mask her amusement. “Dragons know you inside and out, and you can bet your apprentice knots it doesn't matter what your body looks like or does. It's your insides that count in the end. Mother is mostly blind too, but she can see shadows and shapes, and her eyes were going when she impressed Justith. Why should the fact that I can't see more than black and nothing make me any less eligible?” Her grin returned, now more sly. “Besides, I have an edge.”

This time, John's tone was genuinely curious. “An edge? What do you mean?”

She nodded enthusiastically, leaning in to speak in confidence. “I can hear dragons... all dragons. I can speak to them, too, and most of them are happy to talk back.”

That caught John off-guard, and he looked at the girl with a stunned expression. He had, of course, heard of those with this rare gift, but never had he expected to meet one. “I thought that was really, really rare.”

Terezi puffed up at the inquiry, as pleased in herself as she was that he knew what she was talking about. “It's a rare gift, yes, but it sometimes runs in families. And mother can speak with all dragons, too... not just Justith. So why not me too?”

John had been mostly distracted in his conversation with the girl, and up until that moment, he hadn't noticed she'd been leading him through the weyr. He sincerely hoped he could find his way back as they reached what he assumed must be the candidate barracks, seeing a number of other boys inside. “Does everyone know?”

“Shells no!” she cried in response. “People would be jealous.”

“...so why tell me?”

“Because you're a good guy, Apprentice Harper John. Avenith told me so, and he's an excellent judge of character!”

She fell quiet at that, and so did John. He couldn't quite settle his mind of all the things that had happened so far, anyway, and he wasn't sure what else he could say that wouldn't be awkward. Of course he had heard of Weyrwoman Lanxia's trouble with her eyes, but when she had impressed, no one had known they would get as bad as they did. Would a dragon? Did sight even matter to them?

Moreover, did he even dare to hope that he could make dragonrider too, let alone the excitable girl who'd led him over here? Would he wake up back in the Harper Hall, only to find all this had been a dream?

He barely waved when Terezi was called away down the hall by a group of female candidates, and he slid inside to put his bag on a cot as another boy gave him a sad little smile. “Hi there. You're one of the two C'lais's group brought in? You've got a good shot on the sands, then. I'm Kev, son of greenrider Meva. Rezi brought you here?”

“Yeah. Talked nonstop, too.” John smiled a little. “I'm John. It's nice to meet you, Kev.”

Kev grinned, leaning back on his hands. He had to be at least two turns younger than John himself, so this was probably his first time on the sands. His expression, though, was still tinged with sadness. “Yeah, Terezi's like that. She's fourteen turns not long back, and... well, just b'tween you and me? She's stood on the sands twice now. Left standing.”

Startled, John looked over at Kev, blinking. “She's not impressed after two times?”

“She'll likely keep standing until she's too old to. A couple of the old aunties down in the caverns think it's her eyes. Dragons don't want a blind girl.”

That was a sobering thought. Terezi had seemed so very confident that she would impress. He started to unpack, making only small talk with Kev as he did, and in his head he kept a secret hope: that Terezi would not be left alone again.

* * *

It was just barely time for the candidates to wake for their morning chores nearly two sevendays later when John was startled awake by a deep, throaty humming he knew could not have come from any human or troll throat. The other candidates were waking as well, and he saw Kev scrambling out of his bedclothes as the candidate master banged into the room, panting. “Into your hatching clothes, and smartly now!” the old troll barked. “Those eggs won't wait for you!”

The clothes the man had indicated were nothing more than scratchy, sleeveless tunics that hung to the knees, accompanied by a rope belt and thin sandals. No candidate stood out in this at all, he noticed, gazing around at the other nervous boys as they pulled on the long shirt. A smart notion.

They barely had time to finish dressing before they were marched out onto the sands, blistering hot through the sandals, and encouraged to stand in a loose semicircle around the rocking eggs. He spotted Terezi ranging with the girls and thought she looked nervous, though knowing what he did now, he couldn't at all blame her. It was no wonder at all she was so determined.

Above them, the stone cut stands were rapidly filling with people, but before John could spare a thought to seek out his father's face, one of the nearest eggs gave a convulsive rock, cracks spreadin out across its surface. Everyone in the cavern seemed to hold their breath as the shell split, and out tumbled a wet little bronze, his hunger cries so piteous that even John's stomach started to cramp.

“A bronze!” came a cry from the stands. “A good sign!”

More eggs were cracking now, the cavern filled with the ravenous creels of starved dragonets, mixed in with the joyous cries of newly impressed riders.

Two greens broke shell next, one making a beeline for Mirrina, the girl John recognized from Healer Hall, who gave a joyous little squeak when her new life companion nearly tumbled into her arms. The sound of a sudden, overjoyed shout from the wearleaders brought his attention around again, and John blinked back tears that sprung unbidden to his eyes past the grin now splitting his face. All of her determination had finally paid off.

Terezi was on her knees in the hot sands, hugging the wet green head to her body, affectionately smoothing the wings to her sides whenever she could free a hand. “No no, Pyreth, I don't need to see to know you've finally found me. You beautiful thing, that's right, you're mine and I'm yours and no one can take me away!”

There were fewer and fewer eggs now, and John started to feel anxious as they dwindled. There was one big egg left by the time he and six other boys were left on the sands. Kev, he saw, had impressed a blue. Would he be left as Terezi had been twice before?

The egg cracked nearly in two when its occupant struggled free, shaking his little bronze head with a disgruntled squeak. His squeaks turned to frustration and longing as he lunged free, tumbling in the sand, trying his best to make his way toward the middle of the group of boys, where John stood.

John's smile was nearly whimsical as the little beast made his clumsy approach, but his hands were quick when the dragonet was in range and tripped. He would have banged his nose into the sands again, but the Harper boy caught him, and all at once, he was lost. The little dragon was looking at him, chirping happily, now trying to press into his body, all the while speaking to him, right into his mind. /I found you, J'ohn, I found you! Why did you hide with all of these boys? Were you afraid of me? My belly is so empty, J'ohn, I love you so but I am very hungry!/

“I... I'm so sorry, Caseth, I didn't mean to hide...” The words were out of him even as he blinked back tears, hugging the wedge shaped head as Terezi had. He wasn't even aware of the other boys gazing at him enviously, or what he now knew were his father's enthusiastic cries from the stands, proudly informing those around him that the new bronzerider was the Masterharper's own son. “Come on. Here, now, I'll help you. You don't need to butt me like that; I'm not leaving you, silly thing. I love you too, Caseth; it's okay. You'll not be alone again.”

To the sound of much cheering and the grin of the weyrlingmaster jogging across the sands to meet him halfway, J'ohn smiled, standing up and using his hands to guide the awkward hatchling. He was no longer simply John, the impish apprentice of Master Rene, son of Masterharper James, a known prankster at Harper Hall.

He was J'ohn, lifetime companion of bronze Caseth, and a dragonrider of Pern!


End file.
